


Semblance

by Aariah



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, accidental immortal, this is a genre for me now i'm sorry lol, will adjust tags when i get the second part done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-07 12:24:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14671041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aariah/pseuds/Aariah
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki was mortal once. A human who loved the wind more than anything.Time changes things though, and answering calls have consequences. What you want isn't always what you need.In which a person made of stone falls for the wind.





	1. Chapter 1

 The wind always was flashy. Something in the way it danced along with such force, then quieted without so much as a warning- it held Yuuri enthralled. With each storm rolling in Yuuri could be found without fail in the middle of it all, hands raised and raindrops stinging against the cheek. 

 Perhaps that was the beginning of this all. He'd been human once, with a loving mother and a father who always did see the best in him, even when he couldn't himself. 

 "I... I wish I could be that free." The murmured words were lost to the wind, as they had been so many times before. 

  Time goes on you see, it's hard to escape it. And with time the longing grew stronger in his chest. He wanted freedom, freedom from the deep depressions he fell into then had to drag himself out of again. Freedom from the anxieties that plagued his every waking moment. The ache was something nothing could really heal.

 He found he could ignore it. On the ice things seemed clearer, when he was skating he almost felt like he was flying. Like he was teetering on the edge of a storm he couldn't let go of. He'd never say it aloud, but he knew that was the reason he tended to flub his jumps. He just... didn't want the feeling of being in the air to end. 

 Yuuri Katsuki had been mortal once. The proof of his existence was the steep climb through the rankings that took the skating world by storm. He was famous, the upcoming star that had so much potential. 

 But of course there is a day when such things are set aside. All things must be at one point or another. 

  The storm was monsterous, the people on the TV kept calling it the storm of the century. Yuuri knew for a fact no matter how foolish it was he had to be in the middle of it. 

 Three times. Three times he doubts himself in the wake of the roaring outside. Three times he forces himself onward- dipping out of his family's home without so much as a word. They should be used to this by now, it's the thought he holds to reassure himself. 

All he can remember is Minako's stern look, her warning. 

"Yuuri, you can't go out in this one." Like she knew. Because of course she did. 

He couldn't help himself though. It all called out to him so loudly it was impossible to ignore, it was like his feet were moving for him. Responding without conscious effort. 

  Standing on the rise before land dipped into shoreline he struggles to keep himself upright, struggles not to blow away.

  He could practically hear a voice in it, the wind. It's so so easy to make a decision without knowing the outcome or that you were making a decision in the first place. 

 The storm called out to Yuuri in a voice only Yuuri could understand because it matched the longing in his heart. He answered the call. It told him it's secrets, the wind caressing his cheek. He doesn't register the tears streaming from his eyes. 

  He just feels the cold. It was so cold. Like his veins were turning to ice and he can't feel the wind anymore and that voice that has been whispering so sweetly into his ear takes a different tone. 

_"... I Am Sorry."_ It seemed to say. Like it really was sorry and Yuuri could practically taste the shock mixed with horror. 

_ "...I Thought... I Thought It Would Be Different This Time."  _

Yuuri Katsuki looks down at that moment at hands now made of stone. Only now does he feel the tears streaming down his cheeks. Even though the wind was so furious around him- ripping signs and tree limbs away- he couldn't feel it at all anymore.

 

Dawn brought a bitter acceptance. No matter how loudly he screamed into the dazed silence surrounding his family eyes glided over him unseeing, their ears unable to hear his voice. 

It was Minako who saw the truth of it. Minako, who knew her former student better than anyone. 

 "He's gone." She states, her gut already telling her. Yuuri wants to scream, no he's not gone he's right here can't anyone see him? 

  His mom simply nods, crestfallen. 

Emotions flash across Minako's face, she takes a deep slow breath. "Come, both of you." Turning on her heal she walks out the door. 

 The sun outside was too bright, the sky much too clear. Minako is standing there, on the edge of the sidewalk like she's waiting for something. 

 "What are you going to tell everyone?" She asks, arms crossed and expression unreadable.

"He was lost in the storm." It's his father that speaks, quiet and sad. 

"It's the truth." His mother agrees. "The storm took him away. I just... I hope he's happy."

 Shaking his head Yuuri searches for something, some way to let these people know he didn't abandon him. His hands find their way to the trunk of the tree that had stood there since his great grandmother was a girl. 

 And he reaches, searching. 

"Oh. Wow." Minako gasps, looking at the tree in shock. His parents follow suit.

 Each leaf remaining from the storm was now made of stained glass, delicate and still alive. A single leaf floats downwards, and Hiroko snatches it before it hits the ground.

 "Thank you. Yuuri, this is beautiful."

 

* * *

 

 

Time was an odd thing, when it didn't affect you anymore, personally.  Yuuri left his parent's house soon after his change, it was too painful. A year passed, then two. In three it felt like he'd faded from memory completely. 

 In five years he'd made his way across the ocean, wishing bitterly for something to break the monotony of his existence. He hadn't been able to recreate the stained glass, a feat he wasn't sure that he was actually responsible. He didn't need to eat, but he could. He didn't need to sleep, but he could. 

   Ten years, he found someone like him. It was startling, being so used to eyes slipping over him. This man looked right into his eyes with a start. Voice booming he greeted Yuuri who just stood there, shocked beyond all words.

 "You... You can see me?" He doesn't recognize the sound of his own voice, it's been so long since he's needed to talk.

 "Yes. Yes I see you. You're not the only one who's changed in the world." Yakov is reminded of the others he's taken under his wing. The world is a large and lonely place, it's difficult on the heart to go at it completely alone.

  "I... I thought so. Minako had warned me, I think she knew what would happen." He's been replaying that warning in his head on repeat for years. Maybe, maybe maybe maybe. Maybe if he'd listened he'd still be skating- wait no. He'd probably have retired by now. 

  Maybe if he'd listened he'd still be human. 

"You were warned? What of?" Yakov asks. Origins were important to understanding the immortal.

 "There was a voice in the storm calling to me. I answered the call." That was the best way to put it. How did you describe it otherwise? How do you explain the fact that his feet had followed the voice before he knew what he was doing, the sheer destructive beauty in it?

  Yakov sighs, glancing around he spots a bench. "Come. Sit. There's explaining to do." 

Yuuri follows, curious. Something sparks in him that he hasn't felt in a decade. It's almost hopeful. 

 Yakov begins slowly, thoughtful. "How do I put this. When you love, or even want something too much it calls to you. What calls? I don't know. It just does. Maybe... maybe it just takes a special kind of person- desperate? But once you answer that call you become one of us. Wanderers." 

  "That... Makes sense. I wanted to be free." Yuuri's voice lowers to a murmur. "I wish I could regret it but. Even though this is so lonely, the problems I was dealing with before. They aren't there anymore. I'm stable." 

 "Of course you're stable. You're made of rock boy." Yakov says it matter of fact. Obvious, he hasn't quite seen someone change like this. Usually at least their body was the same. "What can you do? There's always an exchange." 

  Yuuri looks up at the trees surrounding them. It was beautiful here, spring was spinning into summer slowly. Three deep breaths, exhaled. And he rises, places a hand on the trunk of the nearest oak tree and searches. 

 It takes a few moments, but time is odd to begin with. 

The first sign of it having worked were the gasps of the humans who were meandering the park nearby. He could hear the exclamations. But he also knew this tree's leaves would grow back after these made of glass fell away, unharmed to the ground in the fall.

  The tree on his parent's front step would have leaves of stained glass forever. 

"You were an artist before. Weren't you?" Yakov asks quietly, gazing at the tree in reverence.

"I was an ice skater." Yuuri replies.

 "I can see it. I don't know what it is with skaters and changing. What is your name? I might recognize it. Even now I still pay attention to them." 

 "Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki." 

At that Yakov sits straight up, shock coloring his features. "So that's what happened to you. It was a big deal, did you watch the programs after you changed?"

 "No. I... Couldn't. I wasn't that good anyway. I kept flubbing the jumps." 

"Boy, you were considered the best of your generation. You don't feel any of it anymore do you?" That was the trade off, you became what you needed most. Even if it wasn't what you wanted. 

"No."

"That's normal. Come back here a year from now, there's someone you need to meet." Yakov sighs, and Yuuri is struck by the fact that he didn't even need to ask the man for his name. He already knew it. Yakov stands and without another word disappears into the crowd surrounding the oak tree. 

 Yuuri would return.

 

 

* * *

 

 People started to talk, about plants turning to stained glass. A flower made of glass that still grew, a tree that grew delicate glass leaves each spring. Minako watched, and nodded. She knew. She missed him, missed Yuuri and what could have been. 

  His parents missed him, in their old age. Hiroko still took that leaf out on occasion, to just look at it and hang on to the last aspect of her son she could still hold. 

  It made sense. The world tended to steal away the great ones. She had first heard the call when she was 18, young but already hardened. She wished, wished she had had the courage to answer it like Yuuri had. Perhaps then she would understand.

That is why she found herself staring at the bottom of bottles, waking in the morning with a splitting headache and wrinkles that weren't there before. They never tell you that, when you start the dance. It's all one long dance, the hours and hours of practice, the meal plans and the discipline. The bleeding feet and feeling like you're made of brittle glass at the end. 

They never tell you your body will start to fail. That the beauty has a price. The price of the beauty you create is a portrait painted in blood, sweat and tears.  

  10 years after her student was lost Minako hears the call again. In the ocean where she took her walks in the early dawn. Hair flying she peers at the waves. This time, this time she answers. She answers and understands. 

 

* * *

 

 

 

  The park was the same, but different. More people were here, this time. Children running in the grass, laughter bubbling into shrieks. He knows what tree he'd touched last time. He resists the urge to touch it again. 

 It was funny, what he was now. He could practically paint the world in stained glass and frankly he was happy to do so. It was beautiful, quiet and reflective. Stained glass was stillness and awe and those were things Yuuri thought the world could use more of. 

 Yakov is here waiting, staring at the tree Yuuri had changed before. There's a figure on the other side of him, Yuuri can only see a flash of silver hair.

 "Yuuri. You've come. Good." Yakov nods at the sight of him. "Vitya, this is Yuuri. Remember that skater that broke your old record? This is the one." 

 The figure peers around Yakov then, curious. Then he smiles broadly, and Yuuri knows he's found something in this man that he never really know he needed. 

 "The record I broke. You're Nikiforov aren't you?" Yuuri stammers out. The man had disappeared before he was born. Articles had spelled out a plane crash, Nikiforov being the only casualty. They never found the body.

 "Victor please. God that makes me feel old." He replies, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You 'died' twenty years before I was born. So yeah. You're old." Yuuri deadpans. In another life he'd cower in front of this man, he was the reason he'd started skating in the first place. Watching grainy video of his programs, Victor Nikiforov was star that burned out too quickly. 

"By that standard Yakov is ancient. Yuri too." Niki- Victor. Victor replies. Yuuri would have to remember this. 

"You're the one who brought it up." Yuuri replies, not quite believing still. 

Yakov shrugs, looking at the two of them. "Yuuri, try not to turn any more trees accidentally. You've drawn a crowd." 

  A crowd that Yakov apparently didn't want to deal with, because he stalks away now, hands stuffed in the pockets of a jacket 50 years out of date if Yuuri was any judge. 

 "Amazing!" Victor turns towards him, mouth turned into a heart shape smile. Yuuri finally glances around and groans. He hadn't even realized he'd been doing it. The tree he'd turned last year was once again turned, people crowded around it. 

 "I guess I have to come back every year now. They'll be expecting it." He murmurs quietly. Perhaps it was the tone of voice that changed the expression on Victor's face- Yuuri never found out why his expression turned from joyful to somber in a split second. 

  "Could I ask you why you kept falling? During your jumps?" Victor asks quietly, eyes steered away from Yuuri- deep in thought.

 "I... I was so focused on being in the air. I didn't want to land." Yuuri doesn't like talking about it. He still can't feel the breezes that he looked forward to before. He can stand in the middle of a hurricane and the only thing he'll feel is the raindrops against his cheek.

"I can't say that I understand. It makes sense though." Victor replies, eyes still so far away. 


	2. Chapter 2

Solid ground beneath his feet. That's all Victor had really wanted from life, before. Solidity. Calm. Something akin to peace. It's funny how that works really.   
He had been known for his dramatics, for the near constant blowups surrounding him and his family in regards to certain aspects of him they never could accept. From being the first openly gay public figure in Russia to the forced exile that colored his final days as a mortal.   
Each jump was beautiful because each jump meant he landed. The blades of his skates reconnected with the ice. It was important. So different from Yuuri's quiet answer, the murmur that would haunt him till he know where he recognized it from.   
The man, he brought back things Victor forgot. Looking at him out of the corner of his eye he can remember watching him in the few competitions he actually bothered to watch. But then his skin hadn't been made of marble, there was a flush to the cheeks and a slight tint to the hair that wasn't an ashy grey.   
The eyes, brown and warm. His eyes were the same.  
"Have you skated at all since you changed?" Victor asks. Suddenly he's picturing ice exploding in color beneath blades, fracturing and remaking itself like the leaves on the trees.   
"No. Have you?" He answers, sounding like he forgot something.  
"Not really. There's always time for change though. Next year. We'll skate then." Victor replies. Next year, because time meant so little and there was so much of it to be used and had and forgotten.   
Yuuri nods his quiet little nod. "Next year. Here? Or somewhere else?"   
"Here." Victor says. "There are more of us. I know of 20 myself. Yakov? He finds everyone one way or another. He's old. Probably one of the oldest."   
"...That. That makes me feel better. A little. I've been trying to sort everything out. It's almost like I never existed."   
Victor wants to yell at him for those last words. Wants to tell him that that record still hasn't been broken. How they still speak his name with such reverence. But he doesn't, because at the same time he understood.   
Understood what it was like to have all aspects of you but one forgotten.   
"Ni-Victor. Yakov said there was always an exchange. What was yours?" Yuuri asks, eyes on the sky.   
"Watch." It only takes a thought, and his body dissolves into the wind and Yuuri has an unreadable expression on his face.  
"Oh." One word contains an anguish that Victor doesn't want to understand.   
Yuuri Katsuki takes one last glance at him, a longing in his eyes. And with that, he is gone.

 

* * *

  
He hadn't skated because he had loved it so much. That was the reason, it was connected to everything. You don't lose everything you had grasped with trembling fingers and go back to the hurt so easily. It was a reminder of the loss. Losing your home, the people you'd known your entire life turning their back on you. His life had been skating. The change had set him free.   
He wishes they could see him now though. Muscles remember, his heart remembers. And with each jump he feels himself dissolving, solidifying as he touches down. And he knows, this is what Lilia had meant when she had said he'd have to learn how to remake himself. Being reborn, over and over again.   
Again and again. She'd said. The meaning of being immortal was rebirth. Fitting, Victor had heard of her in his lessons. The ballerina who burned for her art and rose again never to be seen directly by mortal eyes again.   
"They saw the flames and they assumed." That had been her explanation. You could find her in the depths of forests, typically. She'd never explain the reason. But then again, she didn't need to. It was like how Yuri was typically found in the centers of cities, or by waterfalls and Seung-gil in the middle of the highlands.   
Everyone had their center, where they gravitated. Reflecting, learning. Growing- hopefully.   
He remembered the immortal who'd found him, shortly after the crash. Small and unassuming, her eyes piercing into his soul.   
"You're alive. More so, now. They don't have the means to understand it. Nor do they have the means to see." She'd said, in lieu of an actual greeting. Later, he'd learn the old ones were like that. Odd, not entirely part of anything. They spent much of their time dreaming, he'd woken her.   
She'd called herself Enheduanna. Victor had tried so many times to wrap his tongue around her name, until she was giggling and gave permission to shorten it to Anna. She'd spoken in odd disjointed riddles, which essentially made Victor more and more frustrated until she just.  
Left. He'd only blinked and she was gone.

Later, when Yakov had found him staring at the stars attempting to not think at all, he'd mentioned her name.   
"Enheduanna. She was there after I changed. I guess she's one of us?" He'd said, not questioning Yakov's sudden appearance. It had taken a while, but his mouth had finally adjusted to the syllables.   
But Yakov's reaction was odd. "Don't say her name aloud. She hears it." He replied gruffly, the slightest bit of shock tinting his voice. "She doesn't wake much anymore. I'm surprised."   
"Wait what?"   
"She's the oldest being you'll ever encounter Vitya." Yakov had said it so simply, then. But he was right, Victor never did see that odd woman with the piercing eyes again. He'd met some others, Yuri who had been only 17 when he'd changed.   
That was more memorable. Yuri was all fire and ice, he couldn't really decide on one or the other even though he'd been wandering for a good 70 years by the time Victor was even a thought in his mother's mind.   
Yuri... Yuri took getting used to. But then again, so did many of the others. There was a reason most immortals spent most of their time alone.

  
  
Yuuri met Phichit when the latter was gazing at the ruins of well, something. He wasn't even sure where his feet were taking him. He'd just woken in the middle of the of a dusty road, and decided to continue moving forward.   
"The world started here." Phichit had said, staring at the mounds. He hadn't even bothered to look towards Yuuri, having been used to talking to himself for quite a while now. Phichit didn't want to forget what his voice sounded like, so he spoke to the air.  
"You wouldn't know it. Everything is so tired." Yuuri replies, which causes Phichit to jump and actually look at him.   
"Wait. You're one of us aren't you?" Phichit talks fast, fitting as many words into a breath as possible.  
"What made you think that?" Yuuri replies, voice dry.   
"Well. Oh, oh okay. Yeah you're made of rock. It's sort of obvious now. Yakov always said something about wanderers because that sounds better than immortal. And its easier to swallow. Wanderers have paths in their wanderings so it makes sense because we do too." He lets his voice trail off into silence. For a moment anyway. "It is tired here, isn't it?"  
Yuuri shrugs. Phichit accepts the silence. They would become friends of course, in time. He could see it now, the lines between the past and future were always blurred for him.   
"You'll skate again yes?" He'd skated too, once upon a time. No more, there were other things to be seen.   
"I think so. Victor said we would." Yuuri replies.   
"Good, good. Good things should come out of that you know. Ice is transformative." Phichit doesn't know why he said that, but that's most of the things he says these days. It sounded right.  
"I... Okay. I'll think on it. Thank you. Wait- your name?" Yuuri asks, an afterthought.  
"Phichit. You're Yuuri right?"  
"Ah, yes. Thank you Phichit. I'll see you again right?" Hopeful. His voice is hopeful.  
"Of course." He can almost grasp that next meeting in his head, its almost there yet blurry. It's not happened yet, the backdrop would solidify then. It always did.

  
  
It was more crowded this time, people gathered in small groups. Waiting, watching. Victor ignores them though, waiting for the wind to whisper in his ear once it sensed Yuuri's presence.   
The whisper never came though, not even with Yuuri standing in front of him, fingers looped around the laces of a battered pair of skates.   
"I went home for them. I didn't think they'd miss them much." He states, in lieu of an actual greeting.   
"They did didn't they." Victor replies.   
"They had them in a freaking museum." Yuuri mutters.   
"Oh, so rebellious. Stealing from mortal museums now are we?" Victor feels the edges of a real smile.   
"They were mine to begin with. With how much I paid for these of course I'm taking them." Yuuri is suddenly defensive, and Victor can remember how horridly expensive some skates end up being so really he can't blame him.   
"You might want to change the leaves again. They're waiting for you." Victor gestures to the crowds, and Yuuri looks at them with wide eyes.   
"You do realize if I keep doing this I'm going to have to come back every year?" He asks, even while transforming the leaves to the crowd's delight.  
"It's a good excuse no? Come back every year, see me and skate some."   
"You're disgusting you know that right?" Yuri says from somewhere nearby, Victor should have known the moment he got near but really he was rather distracted.   
"You're just jealous." Victor says.   
"Am not." Yuri is finally in sight, wearing some garish jacket with chinese characters along one sleeve. Victor will never know where exactly he finds these things. Nor does he want to. Some mysteries frankly weren't nearly worth the effort of solving.  
Yuri turns towards Yuuri examining him in a way that left Yuuri squirming. Victor really would need to figure out a way to keep them straight when actually talking with both in earshot.   
"So. You're one of the new ones. Yuuri right? First of all, how fucking dare you have the same name as me I was here first and two why are there so many fucking new ones. 5 in ten years? Like, that's a lot." Yuri says.   
Yuri. He might be older than Victor but it was fairly obvious he made the change when he was fairly young. Victor had asked once, how old he'd been and Yuri had scowled and muttered out 17 and a half because really that extra half made all the difference.   
"Okay, so if you're going to be that way you can be Yurio instead. No arguments." Victor rolls his eyes, and waits for the blowup.  
"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that. Anyways. Ice. Where'd you want it?" He shoves his hands further into his pockets, blowing hair he refused to cut or pull back from his eyes.  
"Yurio. I like that." Yuuri muses, a a slight smirk gracing his face.   
"My name is Yuri. Yuri you idiot." Yurio mutters. "ICE. Viktor where do you want your stupid fucking ice."   
"Oh uh, I didn't think about that part." Victor thinks for a moment. "Wait, isn't there a river nearby? Or a lake? I think its a lake."   
"Its a lake." Yuuri confirms. "But is it really a good idea to turn a lake into ice? It's midsummer."   
"Probably not..." Victor lets his voice trail off.  
"Well clearly this was a waste of my time. Get your shit together." Yuri growls out, two seconds from stalking off.  
"Thank you Yurio for coming, I'll figure it out." Victor mutters, still lost in thought.   
"I thought I fucking told you my name is Yuri! Yuri! Respect your elders here idiot!" Victor's words really set Yuri off, and he actually does stomp off at this point.   
Yuuri starts laughing, a wonderful sound that Victor decides yes indeed he'd like to hear for maybe a few decades at minimum.   
"Is he always like that?" He manages to calm himself just enough to force the words out.  
"Yes. Angry Russian teenager who got stuck as an angry Russian teenager. We still age, just. So slowly it's not worth saying we do in the first place. I guess anyway. I never noticed a difference." Victor replies and he remembers Enheduanna and the eyes that had seen too much.  
"There's probably a rink somewhere nearby. This is a fairly large city. Go in after hours and then the ice problem isn't an issue." Yuuri says.   
"Breaking more mortal laws now I see." Victor says.  
"Mortal being the key word here." Yuuri rolls his eyes, "Neither of us are that anymore."

"It seems wrong to talk here, doesn't it?" One of them whispers, neither of them know who because the thought was on both of their minds. The rink is dark, silent.   
Moonlight filtered through windows, reflecting just slightly against Yuuri's face. Just enough to make Victor stare. It feels like he's known this man for lifetimes instead of a simple brief meeting a year ago.   
He's reminded of Phichit who he met years and years ago. That one meeting was enough. "Didn't you know? The moon always tells the truth." Phichit had said, before Victor had let himself fade away into the currents.  
Those words echo so loudly in his head, even as Yuuri skates absentmindedly in circles. Getting used to the feel of the ice again after so long.   
"Next year, again. Right?" He asks, bringing Victor back to the here.  
"Of course." Victor manages to keep his voice under control. "Where will you go next?"  
"North. Probably. The cold doesn't really bother me anymore. I can't feel the wind." Yuuri replies.   
"Wait what, really?" Victor is stunned. How can't you not feel the wind? He couldn't imagine life without it.  
"Yes." Yuuri, apparently deciding he's had enough makes his way to the exit. "Thank you Victor. See you next year."

 

* * *

 

Yuuri didn't know why he couldn't feel the wind anymore. The wound was still a gaping hole, something Victor's presence did nothing to alleviate. It was distinctly odd, having someone who you had spent hours and hours researching as a child show up in the same odd reality you occupied.   
He kept telling his feet to go north, where he could watch the lights dance in the sky and never feel the cold. But he ended up here, in this odd little cove hidden behind a thick curtain of trees. Speaking frankly, Yuuri couldn't begin to tell you where exactly he was even if he tried.   
A small woman is perched atop a large rock, back to the ocean and eyes closed.   
"You and I are more alike than most of them. We loved too much, and lost entirely." She says, as soon as Yuuri is within earshot.  
"What did you loose?" Yuuri asks softly.   
"The heavens. I look upon the night sky and all I see is a blank canvas... I keep praying that they'll show their faces again. Perhaps my existence is a slight to them in theirs? I am unsure."   
"...I. I was always bad at talking. Bad at belonging. Skating was all I had. We lived by the ocean, every storm seemed... Seemed to call to me? I could never figure out how to say it." He trails off, searching for the words.   
"You don't need to. It was there, that is what matters. How are we to know how the Other shows itself?" The woman sighs, moving slowly she stretches out short legs.  
"Freedom, release probably. I think that's what I wanted." Yuuri decides.  
"Eternal devotion. Two sides of one silver. The wheel keeps turning, forever." Her voice fades into the crashing of the waves against the rocks.   
"...May I ask your name?" Yuuri speaks after a while, breaking the lull.  
"You already know it. Search and it'll rise to the surface of the water. You've questions on forgetting and the forgotten. That's why've you found this space."   
"Maybe. Is there really no way to let them see us? Even for a moment?" Yuuri asks.   
"Probably. Some are born with the sight, they soon are taken in by the tides though. Others grow old and weary and don't want to see. There are a few who only start seeing because of the longing. The Other is an odd and fickle thing, we are caught in the middle. Not truly part of either." Enheduanna speaks oddly, each sentence disjointed from one another.   
Yuuri finds he understands what she's saying though. He found he did in fact know her name, he just had to search for it.   
"I believe it is possible to break the curse we've fallen underneath. For it is a curse, longing and love shouldn't be rewarded as such. I am quite unsure how one goes about such a thing. I have been attempting to decipher the voices in the waves for eons now. They have no answers for me. I was hoping you would."   
"No. I don't." But his mind goes back to the cruelty that was Victor's existence. And how they were so very different.  
"Pity."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for taking forever on this and my other works. I've been dealing with some shit.   
> this one in particular is something I started writing because the theme of emptiness is just. Hitting close to home right now.   
> Not sure when the final part will be finished, but I hope you enjoyed reading this

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still working on my other works don't worry I just started a new job and whooo this is what ends up happening when you're sitting there for a couple hours without access to ur computer.


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